


Blood in the Moonlight

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Death, Demons and deals, Gen, Hellhounds, Two villains chatting, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never did have time to just pause, to admire the way blood seemed black in the moonlight or to take satisfaction in a job well done.</p><p>Crowley is collecting when he's interrupted.<br/>A short meeting between The King of Hell and the Consulting Criminal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood in the Moonlight

His cunning red eyes glared from the evening darkness, gazing upon a rather shocked man as he leant causally against the doorframe. A malicious smile slid onto his lips as the sounds of feral growls rebounded throughout the large apartment.  
A man sat in a rather lavish chair, murky eyes staring forward as if in a trance and his fingers gripping onto the chair arms ever so tightly. He tried to hide a gulp but his attempt was noticed, the fearless persona had vanished leaving the truly frightened man, he actually was, behind. Silent tears slipped from his eyes as wordless sobs filled the room.  
"We all show our true faces in the eyes of death... Don't we, Mr Sterling?" A low and gruff, pleased voice muttered as a sly smirk flashed upon the visitors face, it somehow seemed to darken the already eerie features... If the red eyes weren't enough.  
The demon stepped into the light, but shadows still clung to him, enveloping much of his form. Even in the lamp light, the darkness surrounded him... giving off an evil feel, which was well:  
Expected.  
The man swept his hand in the air for a moment, in a gesture similar to stroking something. The said something made a contented noise, alike a pleased growl of some kind. The demon tilted his head to the side, licking his lips as he waited for a reply.  
"Something wrong? Hellhound got your tongue?" He teased as he pet the invisible creature before shoving his hands in his coat pockets, indifferent. There was only silence from the other man, just his uneven hitched breathing due to his muted cries. The demon chuckled, pacing closer to the man whose grip only tightened and eyes widened with frightened anticipation.  
"It can't... have been ten years already..." He murmured, his voice small, fearful.  
"Wouldn't guess, would you? That ten years ago today, you made a deal with pretty ol' me at the crossroads. I see you used it well..." He glanced about the luxurious apartment, from the Persian rugs to classical artworks, the demon hummed, his client did have class. "...Shame. But the jig is up, mate... time for your eternal damnation, how's that sound?" He gestured for the growling, huffing creatures to move closer. Their invisible claws clicked on the hard wood floor as they did. Panting was heard very close by to the seated man and he started to tremble violently, more tears escaping his muddy wet eyes.  
"Is there anything I can do? I'll do anything!" He blubbered suddenly as the demonic beasts breathed in his face, leaving a putrid smell in the air, his sobs only echoed louder in the room. He clasped his hands together in an almost prayer position. "Please..." He begged the demon, who only smiled in response before gesturing to the hounds.  
"No, love, nothing at all." His grin only grew sinister. "Ta ta, Mr Sterling." He gave a mock wave and turned as the hounds jumped upon the man; his agonised shrieks filling the air as he was torn into many little pieces and his blood painted every surface in a crimson-black sheen. 

The demon stood by the window, staring from the high rise apartment at the full winter moon. His Hellhounds were just picking at the bones now the soul was in his grasp. He didn't want to leave just yet however. The city skyline was nice enough for him to stop for a minute or two, a quick moment in his ever busy schedule. He never did have time to just pause, to admire the way blood seemed black in the moonlight or to take satisfaction in a job well done.  
Always a busy-busy demon.  
The sound of the door swinging open snapped the demon back to reality as he turned from the window. His eyes swept the apartment before falling upon a short man with mischievous dark eyes and a sly smirk to rival his own. The man stepped over the blood soaked patches on the wooden floor, his expensive shoes squeaking as he did. He placed his hands in his Westwood suit pockets as he sauntered over to the demon.  
"I heard you were in town, thought I'd come visit." The man said sing-song like. The demon frowned at the appearance of his unwanted interrupter.  
"I'm here for business, Moriarty, as you can see." He waved towards the remains left by his Hellhounds, very little with exception of the blood.  
Moriarty sniggered. "Yes, I see. Messy, bloody... Business..." He hissed as his dead eyes flickered over the demon, sizing him up. The demon just glared at his company.  
"Is there something you want, darling? Time's still ticking on your deal... Why waste it here with me?"  
"Well, I don't see why not. I'm sure when the time comes we'll come to some: extended agreement, Crowley. How is Hell?"  
"Hell is fine. Now, what do you want? I'm a busy man... Demon even." He growled and snapped his fingers, the Hellhounds disappeared, leaving just the demon and the resurrected criminal.  
Moriarty tutted. "Now. Now. No need to be so fierce. I'm here with a business proposition."  
"There is little you can offer me. I already have your soul... And that clock, she's a-ticking, mate." He emphasised with a raise of his eyebrows.  
"Hear the madman out first, before you outright dismiss me... I have more then your little brain thinks."  
The demon grumbled and stepped closer, invading the human criminal's personal space. "Go on..." He purred, his eyes flashing crossroad red.  
"I have the location of something you want..."  
"And what do I want, James Moriarty?" Crowley paced around him in a predatory style.  
"Would you believe me if I said I had demons on the payroll?" Crowley stopped, his brow funnelled and gaze became dangerous.  
"Why would you have my demons on your payroll? I own you remember...! What are you planning?" His voice raised, he made a gesture and the small man was thrown into a chair, bound by invisible force.  
Moriarty smirked at unnerving the demon. "They're hardly your demons now... These are... Renegades, so to speak. They dislike you very much, Oh King of Hell, and I believe followed they a demon named... What was it? Abbie, Abba...?" His fingers tapped on the chair as he cocked his head in thought.  
"Abbadon!" Crowley finished, his voice growling out the name with spite, hatred.  
"Yes, her. They're big fans." He sung, his eyes lighting up at Crowley's surprise.  
"No... You've found traitors and they are working for you?" The man smiled in response, seemingly smug. "That was a very bad move, dear." The demon curled his hand into a fist, Moriarty suddenly made an discontented sound as blood began to drip from his eyes. He was released and the criminal touched his eyes feeling the sticky blood against his fingertips.  
"You're working with my enemy. Tut. Tut, darling..." He grinned wider as Moriarty moaned in pain as near-black tears streamed down his face.  
"You are not... Understanding. I'll give you the traitors for a price."  
"And your price? Why shouldn't I just kill you, right now? I'll cash your soul in early."  
"We both know you don't do that... The deal is this... My soul no longer bound by contract... And I'll give you them all. There's many... Hey!" He placed his hands over his eyes as the pain became agony and his eyes felt blinded by the blood.  
"Why should I trust you, Moriarty? Because you're the Consulting Criminal?" He let the man go, his eyes stopped bleeding but it still stained his face and clothing.  
"I should ask the same, King of Hell." He purred through his pain. He glanced downwards, grimacing. "And you owe me a new suit. This is..."  
"...Westwood? Yes, I know. Hmm... Fair enough. We can deal. I'll draw up a contract."  
"Good. Good." He removed his hands from his red stained face and held out a hand. Crowley quirked a brow, ignoring it.  
"You know how deals are sealed, James. But I'll return with a contract as well... We'll do this properly. I'll be seeing you. Toodles."  
With that the demon vanished. Leaving a blood covered criminal and black painted room in his wake, all glistening in the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Found this on my iPad. Improved it a little. Was ultimately bored.


End file.
